


Refuge

by JRosemary



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-23
Updated: 2011-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JRosemary/pseuds/JRosemary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCoy seeks refuge from an angry ex in Spock's cabin . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Refuge

Spock had just sat down to tune his lute when someone rang—insistently—outside his door. "Spock!" a voice called from without. "Are you in there?"

It was the doctor. Spock raised an eyebrow, wondering what emergency had brought the excitable human to his cabin.

"Come," the Vulcan said, setting his instrument aside.

The doors opened and McCoy, clearly agitated, strode inside. "Spock, mind if I bunk with you for the night?"

Spock narrowed his eyes at the doctor. He had not heard tell of any technical difficulties in or near McCoy's cabin. "Is there some problem with your own quarters, Doctor?"

"You bet," he answered, pulling up a chair without bothering to wait for an invitation. "They're under siege."

Spock thought he must have misheard. "Under siege?"

McCoy nodded. "Tonia Barrows. The girl's furious with me—and determined to hunt me down. It's not safe for a man in there. I need a refuge."

"I see." No doubt this had something to do with the doctor's tempestuous relationship with Lt. Barrows. The couple had spent the last two years 'breaking up' and 'getting back together.' Sometimes months passed during their 'break-up' periods. Other times only a few weeks separated them from each other. "Am I to understand, Doctor, that you have 'broken up' with Lt. Barrows again?"

“I've been trying to break things off completely for months," he explained, running his fingers through his hair in a worried fashion. "But it's been damned awkward."

"Did you explain to the lieutenant that you no longer found your relationship to be mutually beneficial?"

"That's half the problem! I never wanted a relationship to begin with—and she claimed that she didn't either. We were supposed to be friends with benefits. But the next thing I knew, she was complaining that I wasn't putting enough of an effort into our relationship." He paused long enough to sink his head into his hands. "That should have served as a warning bell."

"Friends with benefits?"

McCoy nodded without looking up. "Yeah. You know—friends that sleep together."

"I see," the Vulcan said slowly. Human mating habits were even more complicated than he had realized.

The doctor finally looked up again. "So what do you say, Spock? Can I crash here tonight?"

Both brows shot up in alarm. "Crash?"

McCoy laughed. "Don't worry—I'm not planning on wrecking your cabin. Can I stay here tonight, I mean?"

Spock considered him. "Doctor, I have no objection to sharing my quarters with you," he said at length. "You are always welcome here. However, would it not be best to confront Lt. Barrows and make your feelings on this matter plain?"

"No. She's in no mood to be reasonable right now. She's angry as hell, as a matter of fact."

"Because you 'broke up' with her?"

"No. Well, yes. I mean, technically she broke up with me—but that took a lot of doing on my part."

Spock blinked. "You induced her to break up with you?"

"Yeah—it took forever, but it finally worked. But now she thinks we should talk about what went wrong." He paused again, this time to roll his eyes. "And she's hopping mad that I don't want to discuss it."

"If she is harassing you, Doctor, you can report—"

"I'm not going to report her, Spock! I can't do that to her. Besides, Jim would just tell me to get my act together and deal with it. And he'd be right."

"So you wish to 'deal with it' by hiding in my cabin?"

McCoy grinned. "That's about the size of it, yes."

“Why my cabin?”

“Because no one would dream that I’d be here. Not all night, anyway. She’ll think of Jim right away—I don’t know if she’d have the chutzpah to knock on his door, but she just might. And she’ll think of Scotty. She’d have no qualms about pursuing me there. But she won’t think of you.”

He paused to stretch out his arms and remove his blue uniform shirt, leaving the standard black t-shirt he wore beneath it.

“Why would she not think of me?” Spock inquired.

“Huh?” McCoy said, tossing his uniform shirt aside. “Oh, because—well, you know.”

“No, Doctor, I do not.”

McCoy gave him a crooked grin. “Frankly, Spock, she wouldn’t think that you’d put up with me all night—I mean, she’s probably picturing me getting drunk to disguise what she sees as my emotional inadequacies.”

“Do you intend to get drunk?”

“No. Well, I won’t say no to a glass or two of Saurian brandy, mind. But I’ll behave myself apart from that.”

Spock nodded. He kept one bottle in his cabin—for use by the doctor or Jim.

“By the way,” McCoy continued, “do you think we could turn down the heat just a smidge? When I was coming up in Georgia, I thought it was the hottest place on earth. That little side trip we took on Vulcan taught me otherwise.”

Spock felt a glow of warmth at the doctor’s casual use of the term ‘coming up’ in place of ‘growing up.’ Illogically, he found McCoy’s southernisms charming. But he had always been careful to disguise that fact from the doctor.

“Computer,” he said, “lower the temperature to 30 degrees Celsius.”

The doctor frowned. “What does that work out to?”

“86 degrees Fahrenheit,” Spock answered, wondering why American humans insisted on using obsolete units of measure.

“Well, that’s a little more like it,” McCoy said grudgingly. “I can survive that. Thanks, Spock.”

He paused and sank further into his chair. Then his blue eyes seemed to take on a far-off look. “What the hell am I doing, Spock? I let myself get tangled up with Tonia, who, like Jocelyn, just doesn’t seem to understand how many hours a doctor has to work. And the last time we were broken up, what did I do? Marry the first woman I came across. Although at least with Natira I had an excuse: I thought I was dying.”

“Doctor, what, precisely, are you searching for in a bond mate?”

McCoy smiled a little at that. “A marriage partner, you mean? Oh, I don’t know. Someone who’ll understand why I devote so much time to my work—and who won’t mind. Someone who’s a good friend. Someone I can argue with and tease without constant drama.”

Spock regarded him steadily. “I see,” he said slowly.

“But I’m beginning to think that person doesn’t exist,” the doctor said with a sigh. “Or if they do, I have no idea how to find them.” He paused and glanced around the room. “Should I put a couple of chairs together for tonight? A sort of make-shift bed?”

“If you wish,” Spock answered as he stood up and retrieved his bottle of Saurian brandy. “However, you are welcome to share my bunk.”

“I’ll take you up on that, if you won’t find it weird,” McCoy said. “That’ll be more comfortable than the chairs and better than any cot we drag in.”

“I shall not find it ‘weird,’ doctor. I trust that you will not?”

He laughed at that as he shook his head. “No—I think I can trust you with my virtue, Spock.”

“Indeed,” Spock agreed, attempting to keep a somewhat rueful tone out of his response. He poured a glass of brandy for the doctor and, after a moment’s consideration, one for himself.

In the end, they drank the full contents of the bottle of brandy together. That was certainly more alcohol than Spock was accustomed to drinking, but he had no difficulty metabolizing it. And McCoy’s long experience with alcoholic beverages of all stripes seemed to serve him well.

The doctor did, however, grow ever more loquacious as the evening wore on. Soon he was regaling Spock with stories about ‘coming up.’ Spock raised his eyebrows at one in particular. When McCoy was thirteen, he and a cousin of the same age had stolen his father’s vehicle—McCoy insisted it was a case of borrowing without permission, not stealing—and promptly wrecked it due to their inexperience. McCoy seemed to derive no end of amusement from describing both their stupidity and their frightening crash into a tree.

“I fail to see the humor in that story, Doctor. You and your cousin might have been killed.”

“Oh, it’s only funny because we survived. Although, at the time, I almost would rather have died than face my father . . .”

He smiled fondly at the memory, letting his voice trail off. Then he shook himself and favored Spock with a wry grin. “Well, it’s late. I’m going to get me to bed. Thanks again for letting me crash here.”

Spock watched as he slipped out of his boots and then climbed into the bunk. Then, after giving the doctor enough time to make himself comfortable, he removed his own uniform shirt and his boots. But he left on his black trousers and t-shirt, just as McCoy had.

He slipped into the bunk, fighting the sudden urge to wrap his arms around the good doctor. McCoy had made it abundantly plain that he did not view the Vulcan as a potential mate.

But Spock soon found himself with an armful of McCoy regardless. In his sleep the doctor had curled up next to him, making use of the Vulcan’s body heat. Spock swallowed at that and summoned all the Vulcan disciplines at his command in order to squelch his arousal.

But somehow he could not bring himself to push the doctor away.

~oOo~

Leonard woke up feeling snug and comfortable despite a slight headache and the excessive heat in the room. He kept his eyes closed for a bit, searching his memory for an explanation. Ah—he was in Spock’s quarters. That explained the heat. And they had polished off a bottle of Saurian brandy together. That explained the headache.

But nothing explained the fact that there was a pair of strong arms encasing him. Or the fact that he was using the Vulcan’s shoulder for a pillow.

He was pretty sure this intimacy was his fault. Spock was—well, both too much the prig and too much the gentleman to initiate it. But surely Spock hadn’t been drunk enough to allow such intimate contact between them? Hell, he didn’t usually like to touch anyone—as a touch telepath, it was too uncomfortable for the overgrown elf.

Leonard opened his eyes and glanced at Spock’s face. The Vulcan was wide awake, staring at the ceiling.

“Spock?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Why didn’t you push me off your bunk when I, uh, invaded your personal space?”

“I did not mind the invasion, Doctor.”

“Oh.” McCoy took a moment to digest that. “Why not?”

Spock sighed, but did not answer.

Leonard felt his eyes widen. His mouth opened, but for a long moment he couldn’t seem to find his voice. “I see,” he said at last.

They both fell into a silent spell. Several minutes must have passed by the time McCoy broke it.

“Spock?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“How long have I been blind to your feelings?”

“Feelings are illogical, Doctor. I have merely observed that we are surprisingly compatible.”

Leonard rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh. And, ah, just how long ago did you make this observation?”

“Two years, six months, five days, sixteen hours, twelve minutes and thirty-two seconds ago.”

“Really?”

“Really, Doctor.”

Leonard pushed himself up by his elbows and rolled his eyes at Spock. “Well, I’ll say this much for you, you pointy-eared menace. You’ll never forget an anniversary.”

“That is unlikely,” Spock agreed.

Leonard grinned, but then he felt his face grow serious. “Spock, I—I’m not sure what to say. Except that you don’t screw around with a friendship like ours without careful consideration. I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

Spock’s dark eyes bored into him. “Did you not say that you wished to mate with a good friend?”

“Yeah, I did,” he admitted, smiling ruefully. “But I meant—well, I wasn’t thinking of, ah, mating with someone who’s already one of my best friends. Look, I’m not saying this can’t work. I’m just saying . . . I’m just saying that we ought to take our time about it.”

Something flickered in Spock’s eyes. Some emotion—and it was an emotion—that Leonard couldn’t read. But then the Vulcan nodded. “That is logical, Doctor. Would you, perhaps, care to have dinner with me this evening?”

“I’d like that.” But then he climbed out of the bunk, lest he be tempted to move too fast. Damn those pointy ears—they were surprisingly enticing at this hour of the morning. Must be the Saurian brandy.

“Doctor?”

Leonard paused in the act of picking up his uniform shirt. “Yes, Spock?”

“Do you intend to resume your relationship with Tonia Barrows as you have in the past?”

“Absolutely not. And, honestly, that decision has nothing to do with you. It’s over between Tonia and me regardless.”

Spock nodded at that but made no other comment.

Leonard pulled the uniform shirt over his head—it would serve for now, although he’d need to grab fresh clothes from his cabin later. Then he turned to look at his friend.

“I won’t hide from Tonia any longer, Spock,” he promised. “I’ll, ah, make my feelings plain today.”

Spock merely nodded again, so Leonard turned and walked to the door. But he spared the Vulcan one more glance before he left.

“See you in a bit, Spock,” he said, “and then I’ll see you for dinner.”

~oOo~

Spock folded his hands together after the doctor left and frowned thoughtfully. Then he rose from his bunk and made his way next door to the captain’s cabin.

Jim was just pulling on his shirt when Spock entered. “Morning, Spock,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

The Vulcan stood there uncertainly for a moment. “Dr. McCoy and Lt. Barrows have broken up,” he began at last.

Jim finished straightening his gold uniform shirt before glancing over at his first officer. If he found it odd to hear Spock use such a human colloquialism—or to take such an interest in gossip—he gave no indication of it. “Yeah, so I’ve heard. This time it may even last.”

Spock felt a tell-tale blush creep into his face—but that was unworthy of a Vulcan. He took a deep breath and made his request in a voice that was thoroughly devoid of emotion.

“Jim, is there any way to increase the odds that Dr. McCoy will not be caught up with her again? It is a habit that seems to distress the doctor.”

“So it does,” Jim agreed, giving Spock a look that was suspiciously bland. “Frankly, I don’t think the relationship is good for either of them.”

He paused and his face grew thoughtful. “On the whole, though, I’m quite impressed with Lt. Barrows’ performance. She probably deserves another promotion. Of course, I don’t have the proper position available for her here on the Enterprise. But I can think of one or two other ships that would be perfect. I’d be happy to recommend her for them—in fact, I’ll sit down with her today and talk it over.”

Spock breathed a sigh of relief. “That sounds like an excellent idea, Jim.”

The captain nodded. “Tell me something, Spock. Are we on for our game of chess tonight? Or are you otherwise occupied?”

“I—I have made plans to have dinner with Dr. McCoy. I am uncertain as to when I will be free later in the evening.”

Jim grinned, letting the bland façade he had adopted drop. “I thought that might be the case. Well, don’t worry about it. You two kids just enjoy yourselves.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at his captain. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Jim. We are not children—”

But Kirk laughed, cutting him off. “Just tell Bones I said that. And tell him not to do anything I wouldn’t do—he’ll know what I mean.”

The Vulcan nodded formally, although he still did not take the captain's meaning. What did Jim's actions have to do with the matter at hand? But no doubt this was a human peculiarity.

“Very well, Jim,” he said. Then he turned for the door.

“And Spock,” Kirk called out.

Spock turned. “Yes Jim?”

The captain smiled at him. “Good luck.”

~The End~


End file.
